Tales from the bar
by Elixr
Summary: Logan, Piotr and Kurt go out drinking, but since the X-men can't have a regular night out, we all know what that means... Bar fight! One shot.


"You need to slow down, mien friend." Kurt said, slapping his hairy friend roughly on the back, the German in his voice very unusual for the seemingly hick town. "You might actually get drunk!"

"Da!" Agreed Piotr through a mouthful of beer, the mountain of empty glasses before him dripping on the table. His Slavic accent eminent amidst the crowd of rowdy travellers and regulars. A group of bikers occupied the table next to them and looked up at them suspiciously every few minutes.

Logan's own pile of mugs outnumbered his friend's by a long shot. He downed glasses at an inhuman rate and showed no signs of slowing down. He was beginning to draw odd stares from the other patrons occupying the small bar.

The three men sat at the counter of the bar just outside of Kentucky, having just finished an assignment given to them by the Professor. They had been there for little under an hour, but already had a tab larger than most of the regular customers. They had arrived at the bar, intent on celebrating the recent victory over a rogue group of Weapon X soldiers intent on shooting civilians for pleasure.

"Another round for my friends and I!" Piotr yelled to the bartender, barely buzzed. The two men beside him cheered along with him.

Kurt had drunk the smallest amount of alcohol between the three of them, but had the highest metabolism so was the only one who was at all drunk. He had an image manipulator on that kept up the appearance of a normal human. As much as they looked like humans at first glance, they gave off a peculiar appearance to anyone who looked too closely.

"You need ta loosen up a bit. Stop it with yer lady sips, Elf." Logan punched Kurt's arm a little bit harder than he had expected to, causing him to spill his drink on the image inducer. The image of a tall white man grew fuzzy and blurred, revealing a thin blue man with a devilish appearance.

A gang of bikers who had been watching the group closely stood up suddenly. "I knew it! They're fucking Muties!" A stalky man wearing a bandana spat, pointing his finger at the trio.

There seemed to be a collective head turning as everyone in the bar, seated or standing, turned to look at the men. Everyone held their breath in anticipation of what was about to happen. People eyed each other as if not really sure what to do next. No one moved for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, Piotr stood up. "Now, Comrades," he said calmly and held up his hands as if to show that he surrendered. His peaceful nature was not a good mix with alcohol and angry men looking for a fight. "We don't want trouble, we are only here to have a good time as friends."

He was almost twice the size of most of the people in the room, but that only seemed to make them angrier. A man seated next to the one who had originally called them out got up quickly and lifted his chair into the air. "Get 'em!" He called out like a battle cry. He raised the chair in triumph and threw it directly at Logan who merely deflected it with his claws.

Everyone in the bar lifted out of their seats at once, joining in the man's cry. Piotr reacted immediately, turning his body into organic steel. He turned on the men before him, lifting them up like dolls and thrusting them across the room.

Kurt lifted out of his chair gracefully, using acrobatic movements to kick the men down one by one. In several purple puffs of sulphur, he had made his way around the bar in a series of complex movements.

Logan took a very different approach. He refrained for extending his long metal claws (other than stabbing one especially annoying man through the hand) since he was constantly reprimanded by his teammates for using excessive violence. He instead settled for punching, kicking and kneeing several people in the face, gut and groin. Before long, what had been the group of men surrounding him a mere thirty seconds earlier was reduced to a bloody pool of unconscious brawlers.

Within minutes the multitudes of men in the previously occupied the packed bar had all either been knocked unconscious or had run away out of fear. The remaining members of the biker gang that the trio had just beaten up rolled into the parking lot of the bar, looking less than pleased with the scene.

"Someone wanna tell me what happened here?" Shouted a large man covered head to toe in tattoos.

The shaking hand of the bartender pointed wearily at where the three men were finishing their half-drunk beers. The man stalked over to them and looked mad as anything.

"Whatdya think, Ruskie?" Logan muttered to his friend under his breath. "Fast ball special?"

"Da." Piotr picked Logan up and held him crouched in a ball by his feet. His strong arm threw him forwards into the large group of approaching people. With his arms outstretched, he was able to knock out over half of the oncoming men. Kurt and Piotr took care of the rest with ease, as they we all distracted by the soaring Canadian.

Logan stood up and dusted off his leather jacket and muddy jeans. He stepped over the unconscious bodies to the bar where he gulped the rest of his drink.

"Well it certainly hasn't been a boring night." Kurt remarked

"I've had worse." Logan agreed and Piotr nodded. All three of them withdrew their wallets and placed whatever cash they had on the now bloody and glass covered counter. "Hopefully that'll cover everything." He nodded to the large pile, to the dismay of the stunned bartender.

"Well, we should be getting back now." Piotr said. "Katya will wonder what has happened."

"Ja," Kurt nodded. "But let's do this again sometime."


End file.
